Sometimes, just sometimes I think this might end us. 

We are strong, don’t get me wrong, but every now and then, in the midst of all this madness and heartache I look at him and I’m scared for our future. I’m scared that this is something we will never fully recover from. That the decision we are about to make will forever be etched in our memories.

I know that by the time it gets to June next year I will look down at my stomach and sit and imagine an ‘if only’ scenario. I know my heart will feel heavy and I know that I will ache for the child that I should be about to give birth to. I know that every month until then I will silently count how many weeks I would’ve been, I’ll imagine every scan that I should’ve had. And I’ll imagine the baby that we should’ve been holding. I’m just that person. 

I wish I could let things go, that I could be ice cold and pretend that this is happening to someone else. I wish I could just detach myself from it and feel absolutely nothing, but I can’t. I can’t describe the immense pain I feel every morning waking up and being sick, knowing that these symptoms are for a baby we will never have. Nothing feels worth it. The headaches, the sore nipples, the sickness, the cravings, the bloating. These are all for a pregnancy that I will have ended in just under 24 hours and I’m petrified.

I don’t know if I can do it, if I can really be that person and take that pill. If I can sit there and say that this really isn’t what I want when there’s this part of me, willing me to carry on and to have faith that everything will be okay. 


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